Fallout: The Thrice Damned
by DeathBladeVI
Summary: In the Oregon Wasteland, the BOS and the NCR fight like rabid dogs for the last scraps of civilization, while a Regulator must protect the innocent. In the East the MWBOS is under siege by a new power and their only hope is the Capital. The Enclave Remnant launch a last ditch effort for power in Asia. The Courier rallies the last remnants of the Legion to liberate the Mojave...
1. Chapter 1

**I'm obessed with Regulators. They are awesome. Nuff said. Also, the NCR are highly mechanized, using old war battleships and destroyers, Vertibirds and armored vehicles. I counter-balance by the fact that the BOS have Vertibirds, Power Armor, and anti-tank weaponry that are standard based. The reason that the NCR are so highly mechanized, is because that Navarro, the Enclave base on the main base, was sacked and captured. They had a good amount of Vertibirds, plus the fact that the Chosen One had managed to take a tanker to the Oil Rig, means that some pre-war ships had to survive and the ones that did, were most likely from the Pacific Fleet, which the President ordered to the Oil Rig. I presumed that the Enclave didn't use them because they didn't have the manpower to man the dozen or so ships that weren't set up for scrap, but the NCR do. I know I have another story, but I just want to place this up. Going to be updated sporidcally. Also, if anyone has a better idea for a title, please do so. I suck at making up titles. **

_"I am a Regulator. The only justice in the wasteland is by the gun, no matter what the NCR says. They can have all the trials they want, have endless political battles, assign blame to escape or pin down blame, but the only endgame is the gun." _

_ -Grandmaster Franklin "Franco" Ramierez_

The soft crunching of gravel under combat boots snaps my attention to the east. The rising sun is covered by a cascade of clouds, as the desert softly sings. The cricketing of crickets start to die down as I start to raise my .32 rifle. Its an old thing, but has worked for me for the last four years of my life, when I joined the Regs.

The Oregon-California border is a rough place. If ever since the BOS and the NCR decided to start a war over some wasteland in Oregon,with the COS assassinating politicans and soldiers on both sides, people have been getting more desperate. The Regulators back at HQ, in Shady Sands, have decided to send me here, to observe and report. All I brought with me was my rifle, my pistol, my combat knife, and two hundred caps. I was staying in a little town on the NCR side of the border.

I was in a small one room shack, manning it, waiting for any NCR-BOS attacks or battles. The NCR town had a Ranger outpost, but I didn't trust anybody. The NCR had a huge presence in the area, pushing back the BOS for a little time. Then the COS came and everything went to hell. Observe and report. Why the hell should I do that? I could throw off all three factions right here, if I had some support from the Regulators down south. But no, we were turning into the NCR, and most of our Regulators were changing into them.

I spin around, the hunting rifle pointed straight, and and I see a woman. A woman in a brown robe, just walking down the road, like nobody's business. I am surprised, and I lower my rifle. She then smiled at me, a huge grin plastered on her face.

"Hi there!" she yells at me. She's friendly, very rare in this wasteland. In her hand is a 10mm pistol, a standard in this area, and in her left hand is a combat knife. She had white tanned skin, and under her hood I could see black hair.

"Hello!" I yelled back. My rifle was now slung over my back, with my 9mm in my hands.

"What are you doing this far outta town?" she asked. She was referring to the little town I was staying at, Rawston. It was a small town of about thirty or so people, and they were NCR. The Rangers had an outpost there, so it was safe, or at least safe in the wasteland terms.

"Observing." I stated. I didn't trust this girl, but she made me feel at ease. The roar of an NCR Vertibird, most likely one of the ones stationed in the south, flies overhead, heading towards somewhere. A unit of NCR troopers are also moving down the road, ignoring me, but I was used to seeing these kind of movements. The NCR Navy, a collection of old war destroyers and battleships, most likely salvaged from the Enclave, were moving as well, lending their guns to the NCR Army. NCR Marines, the few, the proud, the Marines. I know a lot of this because I brush up on my history. NCR history.

The NCR were moving in Humvees, again taken from Pre-War military bases that survived the nuclear apocalypse. Most of them were taken from the Marine base down south, but I know this because its my job to. The COS had no armor, no tech advantage over the NCR or BOS. But yet they had managed to wreck havoc everywhere, burning caravans, killing high ranking officers. This caused the stalemate.

The woman then continues on, and I continue my observation. My hunting rifle had a scope on it, with a silencer, and I peer straight to it. The NCR's armored convoy now disappears into the rolling hills of Oregon, as the sun beats down on my little shack. I then turned to my little journal, the one I have for the reports.

_NCR moving down more and more convoys. Brookings under siege by BOS. COS burning even more towns and settlements. A dozen more dead, half-hundred wounded at latest attack. NCR Navy moved a small naval squadron to Brookings. Vertibird Squadrons are based in small airbases all over the county. Port Ortford under blockade by NCR Navy, BOS artillery moving up. _

_Info's from the rangers. They move into town every so often. Ranger Andy, a crippled ranger from the Mojave, is in command. Good man, very reliable. Man known as Courier being mentioned. NCR military in Mojave severely undermanned and under supplied. The Legion is pressing hard on the Mojave, though the man known as the Courier has turned the tide. _

_Marines took a small island off the coast. Small fishing villages all over the area on the islands west of here. Fishing boats, might get me one. Islands mostly isolated, though the NCR Marines are taking more and more of them. _

_A few squads of NCR soldiers passed through the town, and shot up a small bar. Five dead, ten wounded. Hunted down the deserters, killed three, brought back two. The Rangers executed them both. The BOS sent a few scouts into town, but the Veterans, those the guys with the black combat armor, spotted them and blew em apart with Anti-Material Rifles. _

_Essentially everything is the same. More death and more displaced. NCR and BOS fighting over Oregon, while the COS burn everything in their path. _

I sigh as I put the journal into my knapsack. Dozens of deaths over the last few weeks, and yet the blood is still being spilled over the shitty land of Oregon. Lets hope that the situation improves.

_"Charlie-Foxtrot! BOS are overwhelming our defenses! Requesting reinforcements! BOS are breaking through. Everybody is dead, but me! I need some fucking reinforcements!"_

_ -First Sergeant Astor, at Battle of Brookings _

**Saturday, November 30th, 2281. appx. 12:45 Western United States Time Location: Brookings, Oregon. Aftermath of Third Battle of Brookings. Start of the Fourth Battle of Brookings.**_  
_

First Sergeant Astor was yelling at his men. Smoke was being belched out, as the NCR troopers sprinted towards their cover. The northern half of the city was firmly under BOS control, while the southern half would fall. The sun was in the middle of the sky, not a cloud in sight, as the shimmering blue water held a small warship, a destroyer.

"Hurry it up! Foley, Rameirez, open fire!" and the squad's light machine gun sprung into action, as the smoke of the firing from the _NCS All Roads Lead Home, _fired its main cannon. The boom from it smashed into a building, making it collapse. Astor turned and dove into cover, drawing his 9mm pistol from his holster, as the Initiate of the BOS came into view. Firing, he killed the BOS soldier, before running forward. Brookings was under fire, as the Vertibirds of the NCR were dog-fighting the BOS Vertibirds.

"Command! This is Bravo 2-2. Civilian convoys are underway, but we need more men! I'm working with half a squad, trying to cover a dozen different convoys!" he yelled into his mike as the whine of a mini-gun started up. The streaks of the Vertibirds move in, as the artillery of the Brotherhood moves into play. The terrible crack of the artillery, the flash of smoke and fire, as chunks of dirt are thrown up, and spray past Astor.

"Rangers are being sent in. You have fire support from the _NCS All Roads Lead Home, _plus the air support from the Reapers. Hold fast. Reinforcements will arrive in ETA, ten minutes." and the radio went off line. Private Ramierez squeezed off three rounds from his M-16, hitting a BOS Initiate in the chest, killing him. Another squad of Initiates entered, firing their laser rifles. The cover of the NCR squad is melted a little.

"First Sergeant! The Brotherhood are pushing towards the center! We need to fall back!" Sergeant Foley yelled. Astor sprinted, right straight into the trench where Foley is.

"We gotta keep these guys busy for the next few minutes! Otherwise, the civvies are gonna get _blown the fuck away!_" as a cascade of dirt rains around them. More Initiates stream from the ruins of the city, as the _All Roads Lead Home,_ fired another cannon round. A BOS Vertibird then circles around, looking for more targets. A NCR Vertbird spots it and fires a missile, the pilot cheering when the BOS Vertibird blows up. Debris showers over the BOS side of the NCR trenchline. Cries of agony came forward, giving Astor a little comfort.

_Is this how I'm going to die? By a fucking laser? _Astor's bitter thoughts dissolved when a missile streaked by, slamming into a ruined building, and showering even more debris. Rubble starts to block the streets, as Astor laid down a blanket of automatic fire from his rifle, making several Initiates duck down into cover.

"Sir! They overwhelmed the northern defenses! Turrets offline! We need to get back to Command!" The situation was bad. Brookings was under assault, and the NCR there, a small battalion, was under siege. Much of the civilian population was being evacuated to the NCR military base just a few miles away.

"Fall back to the secondary defensive line!" he ordered, and the small squad followed him. Tracer rounds coming from a mini-gun made small belches of dirt to jump up, and Astor turned back, firing all the while. His bursts caught one Initiate in the shoulder, bringing her down. But many more streamed from the ruins, and Astor wondered where all they came from. The BOS had heavily recruited in the area, and plus the chapters that had fled there, had made it strong.

The city hall was the secondary defensive line, and where also, heavy weaponry was located. Astor looked in amazement at the Greek style of architecture, before the shells of the Brotherhood smashed straight into it, bringing him back into reality. Things were looking hopeless for the squad, but they were Marines._Semper Fidelus._

The hardened steel plates of the Brotherhood armor greets him. The pistons of the power armor power the punch, as it was aimed straight for Astor's chest. Astor jumped back, dodging the punch. The Brotherhood were already here, a Paladin leading a small platoon of Initiates. His squad dropped right into cover, firing their guns. Two Initiates drop dead, while another nurses a wound.

The Paladin pulls out a sword, elegantly crafted from the Chinese, with several characters. The blade lets out a small spark of electricity, and the Paladin swings it, hoping for a quick death. Astor pulls out his knife, a small combat knife. As the world seems to blow up right in front of them, the two circle each other, daring one another to make the first move. No one sees the black.

_"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely."_

_ — Revelation 21:6_

_**Capital Wasteland, November 30th, The Citadel, Meeting **_

Elizabeth had always hated the meeting room. The twenty-three year old Paladin was currently waiting for the meeting to be over. Much of the time was spent discussing boring details about the Republic of the Capital. Much had changed, and the blonde haired, slim girl of the famous late James was at the forefront.

"As Elder Lyons mentioned, much of the time has stayed the same. Raiders are still north, no doubt trying to find a way back into the rich communities of the south, such as Megaton or Rivet City. The North, which included Evergreen Mills, was recovering, and the Raider gangs were getting hammered, but had come under the consul of the Legion, a group of slavers from the east. It had been a stalemate for some time now." said Star Paladin Cross. She was still kicking, despite an incursion from the Outcasts that cost her leg. Now she was the commander of the Citadel, directing squads and supplies to their assignment zones, while occasionally flying air support for the squads. Talon Company's artillery had been captured and dragged back to the Citadel, allowing the Brotherhood to pin point and destroy enemy fortifications. Still, they had their limits as the Raiders were sadly still there.

"We need to assault Old Olney!" Sentinel Lyons argued. Old Olney had been turned into a fortress, with bunkers and machine-guns, while Raiders at been threatening to attack and sack Paradise Falls, where the slavers were. The slavers were caught in the middle, and if one of the forces made a move, they were dead.

"Yes and when we get slaughtered by their fortifications, let me know how the assault went." Knight Artemis said cynically. Elizabeth didn't really care about no damn fortifications! They had booted the Enclave out of the Capital Wasteland, they would boot these goddamn Raiders to hell's end if need be!

"We can pull up the artillery. We have six 105 guns captured from Fort Bannister. We can air drop them off at Fort Canterbury Commons and blow Old Olney to the ground. The Legion is too many, and the MWBOS under siege in Chicago. We have to help them. But first we must destroy the raiders that still plague the Wasteland." Sentinel Lyons countered.

"Why? The MWBOS has done nothing for us." Knight Artemis answered back. Elizabeth couldn't hold back her seething anger.

"Why? We are Brotherhood. Whether in Chicago, whether in California, whether in the Mojave, we are all part of the Brotherhood. We all have a duty to protect each other. Though the Outcasts do not share these values, doesn't mean we don't. Remember. _The Chain that binds!" _And the roaring echo overwhelmed her.

"She is right! We have a duty to our fellow brothers. Let us destroy the raiders, and then march to war for the Brotherhood! _The Chain that Binds!" _Lyons yelled.

"I remember the time we went through the Scourge. I remember the NCR-Brotherhood war back home. We are the most powerful faction on the East Coast. We will prevail!" Paladin Glade shouted. Soon the entire room was engulfed with a cacophony of voices.

"_The Chain that Binds!"_

**Enclave High Command **

**Off the Coast of California, USS _John Paul Jones (DDG-143)_**

**_November 30th, 2281, four years after the destruction of the Mobile Base_ Crawler**

Three men were seated at a round table. One was dressed in black power armor, the demonic eyes of the helmet glared at the screen right in front of them. Another was wearing tan uniform that before the war had started, the naval officers wore in battle. One was dressed in a tan uniform not unlike the uniform that the late Colonel Autumn wore. He was pale, but he had bright blue eyes with black hair, and was tall and gaunt. His cheekbones were haughty as he stood up.

"Gentlemen. I received word from our forces in Arizona. They have been destroyed. The Legion overran them." And the shock enveloped the room.

"What?" Asked one of them. He was General Black, the leader of the Enclave Marines that were stationed on the _John Paul Jones. _The _John Paul Jones _was the last destroyer in the hands of the Enclave. It was an old Arleigh Burke class destroyer re-outfitted with Barrett Missiles and the 5 inch gun was replaced by a railgun. The destroyer was also re-outfitted with a nuclear engine that made it possible for them to go on voyages for hundreds of years, not unlike power armor.

"Yes General. And as the last remaining Enclave remnant in the entire world, I am activating Code Onyx." And the third man stood up. Captain Cross of the Enclave Navy, which consisted off the _John Paul Jones _and two frigates. He was the head of the department and had served faithfully for years.

"_Code Onyx? _We are being downgraded to Code _Onyx?" _And the man in the uniform nodded.

"Sir, with all due respect, that is a bit...extreme. Are we really that desperate?" Asked General Black.

"Yes. Captain." And the naval officer, one who had served the Enclave for fifty years, since his birth. Not questioning a single thing, not questioning the goal. But Code Onyx was something that made him doubt.

"Yes sir?" He finally croaked out.

"Set a course for Seoul."

**_Seoul, Korea_**

**_November 30th, 2281_**

**_22:31_**

In the ruins of the city, in a vault that had been abandoned over a hundred years ago, a single beep was heard. And in the generator room, where electricity sparked and cackled, a pair of black eyes gleamed for the first time in 200 years.

**_So this story went from Regs to Enclave from the West Coast to the East Coast to all over the damn place. This will be my back up fic for Fallout. Please review. This is just a intro. Yeah. That's right. Next chapter will hopefully be out next week, but due to my sister, maybe not. These chapters will now be up from 3,000-6,000 words, making this my most ambitious project ever. Again, please review, and if any questions, please PM. No flames, but Constructive criticsm is appericiated. If you want an OC in this novel, please PM me and I will decide if it is in there or not. If in a review, will not be considered and if it is by guest, then either make an account, or if extremely good, will be taken into consideration. _**


	2. Defiance

**_Thanks for the review Hawkeye and thanks for the follow Skywalker. Thanks to Nukeman for being the first one to submit an OC. THough it wasn't the best profile, I am making an exception for being the first one. Here is the next chapter for The Thrice Damned._**

**_Chicago, Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel, Bunker Alpha_**

**_December 3rd, 2282. _**

**_1230 Hrs, appx. six hours after destruction of enemy attack on Defense_**_ **Omega**_

Knight Commander Montes was tired. Tired of raising his weapon and firing it almost endlessly against the hordes of enemies that had been pouring out of the woods to the North. These, "Ronto" Army men were numerous. The forest green combat armor of the Ronto Military forces were sprawled all over the sandbags, staining them with blood and guts. Montes wiped his brow with his gloved hand, before putting on his T-51b power armor helmet back on. The T-51b was issued out by the MWBOS to the Knights, while the Power armor designed by the scribes were worn by the Paladins.

"Man its hot," complained Senior Knight Adams, and Montes couldn't even argue with him. The hot sun was pounding at their armor, turning into melting pots. Montes didn't even respond, only hefting his Avenger Mini-gun and continuing his patrol around the defensive line. The 5mm bullets had chewed up the ground outside of the walls of sandbags that protected the entrance to the bunker, and laser turrets dotted the landscape. Directly in front of them was a massive camp, with sprawling fires and hundreds, if not thousands, of forest green clad combat armor men and women on patrol. Others were busy eating and sleeping, while others were busy digging a zigzag line of a trench. Brotherhood artillery fired, if rarely, while Brotherhood jets screamed overhead, dropping bombs and fighting with the Ronto Air Force.

One such fighter was banking over the trench, when three jets rose from the smoke fog that engulfed the Ronto Military camp. Colored green, the F-125 of the Ronto Air Force was armed with a 20mm Gatling Mini-gun, firing depleted uranium rounds, and six AIM-21 Howler missiles.

In contrast, the F-27 of the Brotherhood was armed with a 30mm cannon, firing explosive shells. It was more destructive and had brought much more destruction than the 20mm, but it fired slower than the Gatling gun. It was also armed with six AIM-21 Howler Missiles, but it also had two 500 pound bombs strapped to its wings.

"If anyone is out there, this Thunder 5, requesting any air support. Ronto is pushing hard, we are losing ground. Also requesting any reinforcements." The radio in Montes helmet said, static sometimes breaking up the voice. In response to the request, Brotherhood High Command's Paladin Lord John "Red Hands" Johnson spoke into his radio.

"This is Command, we read you Thunder Five. The Dark Ravens will be sent to your location. Knight Three-Two, drop those bombs off at the camp and hurry back to base for rearming and refueling." And Montes immediately looked up. The jet in the air then did a barrel roll, escaping the tracer rounds that erupted from the fighters of the Ronto. Banking hard to the left, he passed over the camp, and two seconds later, the screaming bombs engulfed the land in a eruption of fire and shrapnel.

Montes, with a small sense of pride, smiled before looking back at the bunker. Three Knights dressed in T-51b armor were there, with the insignia of the Brotherhood on their chests and shoulders. In addition, a black raven was scribbled on their armor, identifying them as part of the Dark Ravens.

"Ravens," Montes started," We are moving out. Those Ronto bastards are pressing us hard. We are going to send them packing. I don't give a damn about these fucking Canadians thinking they are the shit. Remember your training, look out for each other, and we shall be fine. To the Chain That Binds!" He then pumped a fist in the air. The surrounding Knights did the same.

"_To the Chain that Binds!" _

_**Enclave High Command**  
_

_**Off the Coast of Midway, Former Military Base of the United States**_

_**USS John Paul Jones**_

_**1120 Hrs, December 3rd, 2282.**_

The hiss of power armor on steel was heard as the dark shadows of the sky engulfed the sea. The _USS John Paul Jones, _followed by the _Thomas Jefferson, _and the _Davey Crockett,_ were in the Pacific Ocean. The dark black ocean was swimming with radiation as a Vertibird, painted black, lifted off from the helicopter deck of the _Jones._

The Vertbird was one of three heading from the small fleet, as they banked over the northern shores of Midway, the mythical area of which the infamous Battle of the Midway Atolls was fought back in the Sino-American War of 2066-2077. The morning fog was rolling in, hopefully concealing them from any radar or early warning systems that may be still operational.

On one of the Vertibirds, four power armored soldiers were sitting on the seats.

Commander Joshua Hickers was the leader of Zeta squad, the elite unit of the Enclave Remnants was on the Vertibird. Armed with a plasma rifle and armored in Advanced Power Armor MK II, he was one of the most deadliest weapons in the Enclave. Next to him was his squad. None of them were named, for they had worn them as a badge of shame.

Zeta-Two was the heavy weapons specialist. Armed with a Mini-gun, Zeta-Two loved it, though the vast majority of the Enclave used plasma and laser based weaponry. Zeta-Three was the sharpshooter. Armed with a modified sniper rifle, the .308 weapon of death was able to pierce even the hardest of power armor helmets. And finally Zeta-Four, the explosive expert of the squad. Armed with a simple ripper and several explosives, he was the the quiet psychopath.

Hickers lead out a sigh. For thirty years he had fought for the Enclave, but he didn't believe in the goal. Hundreds of them had been killed in their last bid for power back in the Capital Wasteland. He had been stationed in the West Coast, hiding from the NCR in the ruins of raider infested San Diego. They were a few left, and when Enclave High Command came fleeing across the country, they became the new ground forces and naval forces of the Enclave. They had been on the ships for the last three years now.

"Zeta-One, you copy?" Hicker's helmet radio sprung to life. Hickers, distracted by his thoughts was startled by it. _Every damn day its a struggle. High Command better try and get its head out of its ass. _

"High Command, this Zeta-One, we copy. Lightning Five is heading towards Midway, we are going to be landing on the airstrip. Scans show that the facility is empty, but some of the old war security may be still active. Requesting permission to have the Zion weapons systems activated, just in case."

"Zeta-One, your request is granted. Zion is spun up and activated, just call it in. Also, we have spotted life forms to the north of the facility. If hostile, terminate, otherwise try to get in contact with them. For the Enclave."

"For the Enclave." And the radio went silent. _People? We are actually going to try and talk these people instead of shooting them? _Hickers let out a small chuckle, just as the Vertibird swooped in from the north, the VTOL craft making waves of dust fly off into each direction. The ramp opened, and Hickers was ready.

"Zeta, file out!" Zeta-Four was the first one to sprint out, his ripper already in one hand, while a plasma grenade was in the other. Zeta-Three, the quiet sniper, was already scanning the area, while Zeta-Two was sweeping the area with his Avenger. Hickers saw the facility, a simple three story building on the far side of the runway. Derelict aircraft were standing side to side, stripped of everything that wasn't paint and worthless metal.

"Here's the plan Zeta. Two, you and Four are going to sweep south, make sure nothing gets in our way when we bug out to see those survivors. Three, you and me are going to check out the building, see what's up. Lightning Five will continue to scan the area for hostiles for another ten minutes before heading back to the Jones. Our mission is priority alpha, so naval support is there. Switch to radio channel echo if you want it. Yell in your mike if you need backup. Thunder and Smear squads are sweeping the west and east. Let's move out Zeta!"

Hickers and Zeta Three sprinted to the nearest aircraft, the sniper rifle scanning the area for any lifeforms. It was desolate, with an almost eerie feeling in the air. The fog was coming in from the coast, and the echoing footsteps of the two power armored soldiers make them more menacing. Hickers and Three, after sprinting from the last aircraft, found themselves in front of the building, the double doors just waiting for them to be kicked in.

"Three. I'm on point." and Three nodded in affirmation. Hickers inhaled, letting the filtered air go through his body, before grunting. He brought his right leg back, and channeled his strength into a devastating kick. The doors flew open, and Three and Hickers cautiously walked in, their weapons in the air, not wanting to be caught with their hands up their asses. Three had switched to her .44 revolver, the scope removed, making sure their flanks were secured.

The building was completely empty. Nothing but a few mags of 5.56 ammo and a few .32 revolvers that were so old that when Hickers squeezed the trigger of one to see if worked, the hand gun exploded in his hand.

"Rustic piece of shit..." He muttered, before smashing his fist into a nearby console. The air traffic building had nothing of interest, and as he was about to call in for extraction, Three nudged him.

What is it?" and Three just simply pointed outside of the window. Dust clouds were seen, and the roaring of engines were evident. Shouldering his plasma rifle, he grabbed his binoculars from his belt, and took off his helmet. His scarred eyes were soon enhanced by the binoculars, and he zoomed in to see who it was.

The dirt road to the north leading to the supposed village of the survivors, he saw three vehicles. Two were just pickup trucks, old scavenged things with fifty caliber machine guns as turrets. But the other was something that he had never seen before. It was extremely armored, especially in the front, with eight wheels and a pointed front. The front was also slanted, as to diminish the power of mines.

It was when he panicked. The lead vehicle also had a cannon it, looking to be about 25mm. It raised to the air traffic control building, the third level to be exact, when a powerful filtered voice filled the air.

"Scavengers. You have five minutes to get out of the building, you know the rules. Otherwise, old Betty is going to be used. The Teacher doesn't want you here. Get your asses back south before we blow them up." The voice threatened. One of the pickups, one man from the driver seats, and was armored in metal armor. His hair was in a punk style, and on his back, a combat shotgun was strapped on. In his pistol holster was a .38 snub revolver, just waiting to kill some bastards. He climbed onto the back, and cocked the fifty cal.

"One warning burst you fuckers!" and he shot a burst of fire right into the window.

"GET DOWN!" Three yelled, her petite voice husky and forceful. She tackled Hickers to the ground, just as the bullets shredded the area where Hickers had just been. Shuddering, the building groaned.

Hickers was jarred from the impact of the tackle, but he was okay. He then switched his radio to the channel he needed.

"Zeta. Smear. Thunder. Get here now, and surround the airfield. Priority Omega. Armored vehicles and heavy machine guns. Again, Priority Omega."

**_Raider camp, Capital Wasteland, near Evergreen Mills._**

**_December 4th,_**_ **2282**._

Catalin couldn't remember the last time things had gotten so fucked up. In front of her, was the legendary Vault Dweller, the Messiah of the Wastes, the one who dealt the Enclave a death blow. The Lone Wanderer. She was wearing combat armor, black with the words _Talon Company _scrawled on it. A white talon was also on it. Next to the Lone Wanderer were four Talon Company mercenaries, all of them heavily armed and looking mean._  
_

"Mam, Rafael Squad and the Rejects are mopping up the last of the camp. Knight Sergeant Miller is mopping up the defense to the south. Artillery is in place, and ready to fire on your orders." One of them said. Catalin couldn't believe what she was seeing. Talon Company was infamous for being the most evil bastards out there, and yet here they were, fighting on the side of the Brotherhood. Shit, she even thought the BOS had razed Fort Bannister to the ground.

She was bleeding heavily, as she had been shot in the abdomen with buckshot, courtesy of the Lone Wanderer's sawed off shotgun, the _Kneecapper. _She was desperately trying to stop the bleeding, as the roar of Vertibirds filled the air. The cacophony of lasers and plasma were heard as the thunderous roar of 105mm fire blasted into her ears.

"Mam, we got a live one here!" A Talon Company merc, looking no older than nineteen, pointing in Catalin's direction. The Lone Wanderer smirked as Catalin was pulled out from underneath the table, feebly trying to get away, pounding her fists against the heavy combat armor. She stopped when the Lone Wanderer looked at her straight in the eyes, the blue cold ice eyes penetrating the windows of her soul.

"Do you know who I am?" She said in a low, almost husky voice. Catalin nodded in fear, confirming the Lone Wanderer's question.

"And you know what I am capable of doing. These Talon Company mercenaries, they work for me. I killed their last boss, slit his throat with his razor. Your boss was nothing but icing on the cake. I wiped out your friends, like they were radroaches. Now tell me, where is Lazerous Michael?"

Catalin paled. Lazerous. She was so scared of what Lazerous would do to her, what the Lone Wanderer would do to her. All she wanted was for her son of nine years to be okay. The twenty five year old raider, veteran of over fifty fights and scuffles, blanked out, the darkness reclaiming her tortured soul.

**_Regulator Shack, Rawston , Oregon._**

**_December 4th,_ 2282**

The pale sun rose from the east, behind the hills. Smoke coming from the nearby town of Brookings were drifting over the small town, while I woke up. The shrills from the nearby birds woke me up, my lean torso filled with bullet holes and scars. I sat up in my bed, my rifle by my side. I never let that out of my site, no matter what. I am Franco, the last Regulator north of Shady Sands.

The singing desert birds followed me as I slipped on my white shirt, followed by my jeans, which were torn, and then my boots and hat. My duster, the iconic duster of every Regulator. I slipped it on as well. I then strapped my rifle to my back, before heading to the small living room, where my food awaited me. My 9mm pistol, colored black and gray, was also waiting for me.

I sat down on the shitty couch, thinking about what the hell I was going to be doing today. My orders from the Regulators down south were to just observe, not to fire upon anyone, and not to intervene into anything.

_Fucking lazy ass motherfuckers. _I hated it when the damn Congress of the NCR butt into Regulator business, and the Regs down south always caved. I slipped on my black finger-less gloves, before grabbing my pistol, and heading into the town for some supplies. I hunted geckos for the meat and to sell the hides for caps.

The town was small, just a few buildings and shacks, along with the Ranger post and bar. Some of the townsfolk were sitting on their porches,while others were stumbling out of the bar. I grinned widely, as I headed up the dirt road to the bar, the sounds of old western music and the dancing feet of old drunken people. The Rangers also had strict orders not to interfere with town business, so one of the largest gangs on the Oregon border were preying on the town. The Rangers were visibly angry, but couldn't do anything.

I entered the bar, where everyone stopped talking and dancing. I was the outcast of the town, but I needed a drink, and Black Dungeon was the best drink in town. I sat down on the barstool, waiting for the bartender to get my drink, when the doors to the bar where smashed right open. Four men, armed with combat shoguns and assault rifles, were there. The NCR squads that passed through there would ruffle and tussle with them, but since those squads were being directed to Brookings, only a few came in, and those were green boys.

"Black! We want our money and we want it now! " The leader said. He was in a poorly maintained suit of combat armor, and he was armed with a shotgun. I was angry, for these motherfuckers were preying on the innocent, and here I was, a self proclaimed champion of the poor, unable to do anything because of the way my fucking faction worked. My knuckles were white with rage, but I needed to keep my cool.

Black was the owner of the bar. He shook with fear as he handed over a bag of caps, several hundred if I was correct, and I decided to act. I was tired of being not able to anything, to watch these bastards rob anybody they liked. Not anymore.

"Hey asshole!" I yelled.

"What!" He yelled back. I don't know what I was doing but seconds later, I pulled out my 9mm pistol, the cool metal gleaming in my hand, and I pulled the trigger three times. Three muzzle flashes were seen as the man went screaming, crumpling to the ground. The other three thugs cursed as they brought their weapons to bear. I rolled behind a table, just as several rounds shredded the place I was just occupying. Yells and curses were heard as I popped out, pumping several rounds of ammunition into a thug. He staggered as it caught him on his breastplate, and he went down with a grunt.

I sprinted over to another table, just as a shotgun blast sheared right into the table I was at. I grabbed a dead patron's 12 gauge pump action shogun, and pumped in a new shell. Leaping over the table, I kicked one of the thugs right in the chest, sending barreling into the wall. I brought the shotgun to my shoulder, before pulling the trigger.

His head disappeared into a cloud of red mist, and I pumped the shogun, the spent shell escaping from the powerful gun. I heard a grunt as the last thug was in front of me. I was about to pull the trigger when I saw who he was holding.

It was a small girl, no more than thirteen,and he was holding a .44 magnum right to her head.I cursed. No matter what, the last fucking thug had to take a fucking hostage. I put my shotgun down before drawing my pistol.

"Asshole, put the girl down." I calmly said. In response, he shoved the magnum harder against the temple of the girl.

"Shut up asshole! Let me go. I am the fastest gun in this entire town, and I'll blow you and this girl to smithereens!" He yelled back. I glanced at my watch. It was five to twelve and I got an idea. Stupid and crazy, but when was I smart and calculating?

"How about this. It's five to twelve. We go down like in the old western days. A duel. I win, you die. You win, I die, and you get to walk off scotch free." I said. He looked at the clock of the bar, and it was 11:56.

"Just let the girl go." I added.

He looked at me, before letting the girl go.

"That's better. Now head over to the center of town. We finish the old fashion way." And as he headed there, I noticed a gleam of metal. The girl was right next to me, and she hugged me in appreciation.

"Thank you mister. If it wasn't for you, my pa wouldn't be able to feed us. Here, take this." And she handed me the most surprising thing. It was a .357 magnum, but double action. It was black, with the words _Lucky _written on the barrel.

"Thank you mam." And I sauntered out of there. The bell was about to wrung, the spectators of the town surrounding us. The guy was about thirty, and was mean and lean. He had a bushy mustache, and his skin was tan, but he was white. His blue eyes glared at me.

"Ready to die?" He asked me. I just looked at him. It was 11:59. I was nervous. I don't why the hell I challenged him to a duel. But I had to. To show the people of this town that I would stand up for them. I was a Regulator.

Then I heard it.

_Dong! Dong! Dong!_

I raised my new revolver, firing off three shots. The sound of gunfire soon died down. We were both standing up right, and that was when he glanced down.

Three shots had entered his chest, and exited out. He slumped to the ground, dead as can be. I holstered my revolver before looking down.

A single gunshot had entered my chest. I felt a searing pain as I was brought to my knees. Black spots swam in my vision, just as I slumped forward, the darkness claiming me.

**_Seoul, Korea_**

**_December 4th,__ 2282_**

The pre war city had been pretty nice, but now it was just shit. Rubble caved in part of the city hall. The ruby sun was starting to die down, when a single black hand suddenly emerged from the rubble, the hand clenching, as it started to dig it's way out.

**_Again, please review. I want some constructive criticism for my work, while I work on the next chapter and my sister's request. Thanks again for the two reviews, and I hope to see more. I encourage you all to review all of the works you read, not just mine. Again, thank you and have a good day._**


	3. The Center Cannot Hold

HELLO PEOPLE! WELCOME TO THE THIRD CHAPTER! Also, introducing my Courier with a twist. And several new factions within the next few chapters.

**The Courier **

_**It has been one year since the end of the Legion-NCR War. With the war ending, the NCR has gotten it's entire military to face the growing power of the Brotherhood to the North. But what they did not count on was the beginning of the Courier's legacy...and the pact he made with the last remnants of the Desert Rangers and the Legion that had been crushed. **_

_**The last days of the war, the Courier had grown disillusioned with the New California Republic. He was tired of the Old War Republics. He was tired of the fighting. But in order to create a new life for the Mojave, he had to destroy the very symbol of the Bear. Thousands must die. Shady Sands must burn.**_

The Courier stood on the top of the mountain. Looking over the land that was now in the hands of the NCR. The NCR had destroyed the Lucky 38, sneaking a tactical bomb into the lower levels of the hotel and destroying it. Mr. House was dead. Benny was dead. Caesar was dead.

The figure sighed, the very symbol of hope and life, was tired of war. Seeing the red sun dip down below the dam, he coughed, before descending down the path.

"Courier. The legions march but the Bear stirs. Her eyes are everywhere." an imposing figure next to him said with a rough, but loud voice. His voice resonated resolution, but sadness as well.

"Legate Lanius. I spared your life, because I believe that you will be able to help me rule this land. Caesar was a weakling, no matter what he said. Shady Sands will be destroyed, so that the Mojave would live. You follow me and only me. Otherwise I will kill you and have your body mounted on the walls of the Strip." Courier Six said casually, and the imposing large man nodded in affirmation.

"Of course Courier. You are a soldier of the West, no matter what you say or do. You let the weak rise up. But you were weak, but you rose from the grave, as two bullets left their mark. What would you have me do?" the Legate then bowed. Two Centurions with their centuries had taken Black Mountain from the Super Mutants three months ago, and the soldiers had remained there. A veteran walked by, saying ave to the Courier.

"We must gain allies. The Brotherhood in the valley to the west of us will not suffice. We have already destroyed the weaklings. The Boomers to the north are loyal, and the Khans pledge assistance to me. But that is not enough. We must rally all of the Mojave and then more in order to destroy the New California Republic. They may be in command of the wasteland, but we will destroy them. The legions, where are they?" the Courier then turned towards a legionnaire, one with a recruit decanus helmet on and legionnaire armor on.

"The 1st Legion approaches from Arizona. The legions there have fallen into destruction and civil war. A pretender to the throne of Caesar has risen up and taken Flagstaff and the surrounding territories. Only Colorado remains loyal to the memory of Caesar. Augustus reports that the legions will not be able to march against the NCR until they have sorted through and the civil war ends." the decanus reported from a ledger.

"Lanius. You will accompany me to Arizona. We will end this civil war and destroy this...pretender. His body will be mounted on the walls of Flagstaff, and then we will march against the NCR. But we must end the threat of the man. Lanius." Lanius nodded in understanding.

"What else Courier?" the massive man asked.

"Tell Augustus to hold in Tuscon. Have his legionnaires scour the land for vaults."

"Why?" the Legate was astounded.

"The secrets that the Old War must be buried and left alone. But these vaults must be destroyed, in order for the land to flourish. But one of these vaults has a certain tech that the land must need. Vault 37. Have him find it and take it." the Courier said, before turning to descend the path to the buildings of Black Mountain.

"What of the people that may live there?"asked the Legate. He didn't really care about their lives, but he needed to make sure.

"What do you think? They are of the Old, we are of the new. Kill them all." and the duster clad man walked away, the brush gun soon firing at a target off into the distance.

The Courier would tear the heart out of the bear and kill the West.

**_The Enclave. People hate them. People love them. There are no middle grounds. _**

**_Space. The endless expansion of space._**

A single satellite drifted over the wreckage of hundreds of missiles. The space defenses that the countries of the world had destroyed hundreds of nuclear weapons that had lifted up to destroy the civilizations of the world.

The satellite was dormant, waiting for the order to wake up. Soon a beeping noise was heard...

...ORDER RECEIVED.

ZION WEAPON SYSTEMS STARTING DIAGNOSTICS. TARGET LOCATED. THREE VEHICLES. TWO FIFTY CALIBER MACHINE GUNS ON PICKUP TRUCKS. ONE ARMORED VEHICLE ARMED WITH 25MM CANNON.

APPX THREE DOZEN HOSTILES. ORDERS TO DESTROY CONVOY TO ALLOW ZETA SQUAD TO ADVANCE AND DESTROY HOSTILE TRIBALS LIVING ON MIDWAY.

LONG LIVE THE ENCLAVE. LONG LIVE AMERICA!

Soon a single beam emitted from the satellite, heading towards the Earth at a breathtaking speed.

**ON MIDWAY ATOLL**

The commander ducked as the fifty caliber machine gun shredded the weak stone building. Dust fell from the ceiling as the entire building was rocked. Plasma shot back, but it caused no effect on the massive armored machine rolling towards the building, the 25mm cannon pounding their cover.

"ZETA-TWO! Where the hell are you!" Hickers screamed into his radio.

"Patience commander. We ran into resistance from some those hostiles. They are dead. We are approaching from the east. Keep your head down, it's about to get loud." Zeta-Two responded with cool confidence.

"Hurry. Zeta-Three and me cannot take this much longer." Hickers was in a pinch. Three vehicles were shredding their cover, and they weren't able to fire back without getting shredded. He raised Smear on his radio.

"Smear, come in Smear!" Hickers screamed into his radio once again.

"We have run into heavy resistance. Seems to be a village. Smear three is wounded, Smear two is under heavy fire. Requesting air support!" the panicked voice of Smear-One rang through the radio. Automatic fire and plasma were heard, and the roar of vehicles soon overwhelmed the noise of weaponry.

"Lightning Five. Are you in the area?" Thunder-One's voice thundered over the radio.

"Si. We are, but those tribals are operating anti-air weaponry in the area of approach. The fog masked our approach, but we aren't going to be able to extract you guys until those guns are down. Lightning Five out."

"Zeta, how are we gonna get to you? I got heavy resistance that is wearing out my squad. We got six tangos dead, seventeen wounded, but I got a lot more streaming from that village to the north." Thunder said to Zeta.

"Try to cut into the forest. Reinforce Smear and keep pushing. Zeta out." and Hickers cursed. Giving himself a chance, he looked out the window. Six men in metal armor where sprinting towards the building. Hickers let out a sigh before motioning for Three to follow him.

"Stay here. Take out anyone that comes into the room." and Three nodded, before activating a stealth boy. Hickers let out a string of curses before kicking the doors open. Taking cover behind a wall, he watched as three of the metal armored men move down the hallway. As they passed right past him, he smashed his fist into the face one of them, before grabbing him and drawing his laser pistol.

"Hey assholes," Hickers saw and the two turned. Fatal mistake.

"Catch." and he threw the metal armored man towards his two companions. Taking advantage of the distraction, he fired three beams of light. One struck the lower leg of the metal armored man, scorching his armor. The other two splashed against the metal breastplates of the other two. Rolling forward, he sprung like a tiger, tackling them all to the ground.

"DIE!" one of them yelled. Drawing his combat knife, he drove right into the chin of the metal armored man. The blade slipped easily into soft skin, and blood started to pour out. Gurgling, the dead man slumped forward, while one of his friends head was blown clean off by a .308 round, spattering grey brain matter and gore everywhere.

The third, seeing that he had pissed off two heavily armored soldiers, tried to run away and raised his voice. Unfortunately, a plasma bolt smacked right between his shoulder blades and a chain reaction later, turned him to molten goo.

The other three metal armored men were armed with combat shotguns and assault rifles, a good combination to facing unarmored and lightly armored foes. Not Enclave personnel.

The first one vanished into a sea of green, as his molecules were scrambled and they dissolved. The next one got off a shot, but the buckshot that usually tore through clothing and leather simply ricocheted off the jet black power armor. He was then smashed in the face, the hydraulics in the fist of the power armor increasing the blow's power. His head was torn apart from the force of the punch, and he went down.

The last one got off three bursts, but that didn't do him any good. The 5.56 milometer bullets were designed to provide cover fire and suppressing fire, not tear through steel. Raising her .44 revolver, the handgun discharged and kicked back into her hand, killing the metal armored man. He slumped to the ground, his head with a massive hole right in the middle.

"All hostiles eliminated. Smear, Thunder, Zeta, come in." Hickers spoke into his mike. The armored vehicles outside were idle, but Hickers knew it was a suicide run to even try and get out of there. Though power armor was designed as a one man tank, the 25 milometer cannon on an armored vehicle could rip into shreds. Individual rounds didn't do anything, but add in a cannon that could fire up to six hundred rounds per minute, and then add explosive rounds, then you had a problem. Plus Hickers had seen what explosive bullets could back in San Diego.

"Command, this is Zeta. Is Zion hot? I repeat, is Zion hot?" Hickers said into his mike.

"Zeta, this is Command. Zion is indeed hot. Recommend pulling back squads and enjoy the fireworks. Over."

"ETA until strike?"

"ETA two minutes. Beam should destroy the armored vehicles. Once that convoy is down, we will be landing the Dawn's Angels troopers to the east via amphibious transports. To risky to land in reinforcements." Hickers was relieved.

The Dawn's Angels were the elite of the elite. Though Hickers was an elite soldier, he was but a common one. Though he was deadly, the Dawn's Angels were the crack troopers of the Enclave Marines.

"Zeta, Smear, Thunder. Halt advance and retreat to safe distance. Zion Weapons System activated. Sit down and watch the fireworks."

**Teacher's Convoy **

**Near Airstrip**

The Teacher was tired. He had tried and tried to educate the savages that had lived on the island. His men had controlled the island for years, but scattered skirmishes with the scavengers that survived his initial purge, and now he had run into some right on his way back to High Town, the capital town that he controlled.

"Teacher, my apologies. They have killed the Reader and his squad. How they did that, I do not know." a purified in metal armor said to him through a radio.

"Writer, just wipe them out. We need to get on our way back to the compound in order to deal with the new threat off our coasts. We need to deal with these men. They can be trouble for us." the Teacher said. He was around sixty, with broad shoulders, gaunt and tall, and had grey hair and blue eyes. His eyes were cold and calculating and he was grasping a wooden cane.

"Yes Teacher." Writer then went off the air, and the Teacher switched to another frequency.

"Teacher! I am holding off several armored men. They blasted right through the Student and his men. We cannot hold the Library. I only have sixteen soldiers left! Please send reinforcements!" the panicked voice of a man yelled into the radio.

"What do you mean, only sixteen left? That is enough to wipe the scavengers off the face of the Earth!" the Teacher screamed. The usual stoic man was now fuming. What the hell was happening?

"They aren't scavengers! They are hcck!" the gurgling of blood was soon heard and someone dying sang into the ears of the Teacher.

"Rhetoric! What the hell is happening!" the Teacher screamed.

"This is the Enclave. Your men are dead. Your cause is dead. And soon you will be dead. The Enclave is the only true hope in this dying world. You will eradicated, just like the rest." a powerful voice said, even it if it was filtered.

"Who are the Enclave?" asked the Teacher. Ever since he had been on this god forsaken island, he had never been scared except for now.

"We are the Unite States. But don't worry bout it. Just look up." and the Teacher was distraught when the radio went dead.

"Let me out of the vehicle now!" and the ramp opened, hissing as the hydraulics strained.

"What is happening Teacher?" asked the Writer.

"Exitus acta probat." the Teacher muttered.

"The outcome proves the deed." the Writer stated back.

Soon a blue beam cut across the dark sky, and the world seemed to brighten. The sky went dark, before the beam cut through it, the bluish light carving right through the armor like a hot knife against butter. It caused a chain reaction as the beam of light destroyed the fusion engines. Everything else was simple.

There was still one more thing to do.

High Town will fall.

**Tuscon, Courier's Legion Territory **

The Bull was upside down. It was torn apart as the red uniforms of the Legion marched. They were the last of the true legionnaires, the ones that followed the will of Caesar. They were the loyal servants of Mars. Not this pretender in Flagstaff. The red sun was beating down on the sand of the desert, and it was sweltering hot, but the legion did not mind. Many of the Legion had fought the NCR and survived easily. The NCR were tough opponents, and only due to the rise of the Courier were they able to survive.

The Legion had torn itself apart with the loss at Hoover Dam. Thousands dead, thousands more wounded, the legions that had marched with Caesar had been decimated, and now on the long road back, they had been harassed by Veteran Rangers being sent to monitor the situation in Arizona. Colorado was the last territory that was in the hands of the True Legion, or the Courier's Legions. Denver had fallen to the cursed pretender, but the legionnaires under Centurion Nero were some of the fiercest in the land.

Legate Augustus, the leader of the I Legion, and one of the last remnants of the great past, strode in his tent. Three Veteran legionnaires, the best that the regular legionnaires had to offer, were standing guard outside the red tent as the three centurions that were in charge of their separate centuries entered.

"Hail Legatus." one of the roared. He was six foot eight and wore gleaming armor that was adorned to the Centurions. A large super sledge was on his back, the old rustic weapon having caved in so many enemies.

"Hail Centurion." and the Centurions sat down around the table.

"Centurions. For three days we have launched attacks around the outskirts of Flagstaff. Decanus Tiberius and his men have been harassing the pretender and his legions to the south, and we have weakened him on the path to Flagstaff, where the glorious Caesar had his first capital. Nova Roma, New Vegas was supposed to be. The dawn of a new age for the Wasteland. No longer the case, but we are the strongest of the Legion. On the third of the month of January is when we launch our assault on Flagstaff." Legate Augustus said. His powerful voice brought the Centurions to their feet.

"For the Legion. For Caesar! For the Courier!"

"THE DAWN APPROACHES!"

**Seoul, Korea**

The black hand was rotating, and the creature stared at it. His onyx eyes were dazzling, but he stood at thirteen feet. His grand stature rose as he surveyed the land. A black ship was on the water, heading straight for the harbor. The creature smiled, his black teeth showing. It was hunting time until the arrival of his masters.

**Assassin Camp **

**Territory of New Vegas, Near the town of Primm **

The assassin woke up. The night's sky was starting to light as the sun started to come over the Sierra Mountains. The three other assassins were still sound asleep, except for Juno, the daughter of Caesar. Juno was only twenty, but she had killed far more men than the other three assassins put together. She was beautiful, the product between the Emperor and the priestess of Juno herself, and she was named after the goddess of marriage.

"Juno." the assassin greeted casually. Standing at five foot ten, he wasn't tall, but he wasn't short either. His green eyes were emerald, piercing in his gaze at Juno. His sandy brown hair was cut short and stiff, as he softly handled the sniper rifle on his back. He had been a marksman for years, sniping Legion targets from a distance. He was on par with the 1st Recon snipers.

"Marcus. We need to talk." Juno said casually.

"What is it Juno?" asked the assassin.

"I'm pregnant."

_Oh shit. What is the Courier going to say about this?_

**_So short chapter here. Not a lot of stuff happening, and you may be confused, but I will explain everything in the next chapter. The pregnant thing is going to play a huge rule in the next few chapters. So please stay tuned. _**


	4. Shadows

**Thanks for the review Griffemon. The courier grew to hate the red tape of the Republic. So he plans to save the land where he was raised in a power bid for the Mojave. He destroyed the Securitron Vault, assassinated Caesar, and did a hole bunch of stuff that will be explained later in the next chapters. There were will be some elements from Lonesome Road and Old War Blues, but there won't be a Lone Wanderer/Courier duel because of the geographic differences. There might be however, a Veteran Ranger vs a Brotherhood Paladin, so give me your thoughts on two of the most badass warriors the wasteland has to offer. **

**Shadows in the Night**

_**"When the Brotherhood in the Mojave learned that their brothers in Oregon were fighting with the New California Republic, the Elder had one two choices. Join the war and die, or join the war and die. He kept us out of the war, and with that, gave us a fighting chance when the real threat came."**_

_** -Knight Watson**_

**Northern Mojave **

**Routine Brotherhood Patrol **

**December 15th, 2282**

**1530 PT **

Paladin Ramos was angry. The blasted Oregon chapter of the Brotherhood had gone to war with the New California Republic and were stalemated. The Mojave Chapter was on good terms with the Republic due to the Courier.

The former chief of security was on a routine Brotherhood patrol, looking for raiders or legion. Three Paladins and two Junior Paladins were behind him, armed with a multitude of weapons, mostly tri-beam laser rifles and Gatling Lasers. They were on the I-15, near their base of operations, the 188 Trading Post. There was tension between the Brotherhood and the Republic, but the Mojave Brotherhood had learned their lesson. Unless they could gather thousands of more allies, they would be crushed by the Republic's numbers.

Numbers. That was how the damn NCR always won. Helios One. Lost Hills. San Francisco. The only reason the Oregon Chapter had managed to stalemate was because several chapters of the Western Brotherhood of Steel had hightailed their asses to Oregon and started to actively recruit among the local populace.

Scratching his head, he looked in the hills to the west, watching the sun blaze with rage, and a caravan lumber towards the 188 Trading Post. Four Brahmin, six guards and three merchants were heading straight towards them. Paladin Ramos signaled his squad to stop.

"Squad, disperse. Wait for the caravan to pass then continue patrol." the Paladin ordered. The Paladins wordlessly obeyed, and like drill soldiers parading for their masters, they opened the road for the caravan to pass.

"Tin cans." one of the passing traders muttered, while another flashed a rude gesture. The Paladin took it all with stride for he knew that it was all earned.

The Brotherhood had caused a lot of damage in the west, especially in the north and around the lands of the former bunkers. Thousands of Republic troops dead and hundreds of civilians of dead as well. Almost everyone in the New California Republic had lost someone to the Brotherhood, so Ramos lead it slide.

"Resume patrol." Ramos ordered and again wordlessly, the Paladins obeyed. For several hours they continued to sweep from the 188 to Boulder City, firing on any raiders or legion. More caravans passed, coming from the Outpost. One such caravan was coming now. There were two Brahmin, three guards and one merchant.

Suddenly a large thunderclap was heard, and a guard's head exploded in a shower of gore. The other guards dropped behind cover, while grabbing the merchant. The Brotherhood squad rushed forward, when another loud clap was heard, and the whistling of bullets slammed right into one of the Paladins.

He dropped to the floor, his armor smoking. Two dozen armor piercing rounds had slammed into him, but luckily they were small caliber,; anything larger would have gutted him. Ramos cursed, before raising his rifle and firing into the hills were the shots had come from. He was rewarded with a body tumbling down, armor black and red. It was legion.

"Legion! Ramirez, covering fire!" and a large Paladin armed with a Gatling Laser sprinted forward, loosening a torrent of fire into the hills. Another gunshot rang out, slamming into the T-51b power armor, but Ramirez ignored it, and sprayed more laser fire into the hills. Ramos was able to mount a good defense.

Legion raiding parties were former assassins. Most of them. Cut off from their command base, they had resorted to raiding caravans and NCR outposts for food, water, ammo, and weaponry. This raiding party was not different.

Suddenly Ramos heard a screaming man coming charging down the hill towards the his hands was a large bumper sword. Ramirez aimed the large weapon at the man screaming, dressed in centurion armor, and fired. A swarm of lasers came buzzing in on the man, but they shrugged off the armor like rocks off a building.

The centurion screamed before swinging the sword at a guard. The sword cut cleanly through the neck, and decapitated him. Screaming once more, he spun with all his momentum and dismembered the merchant. Fountains of blood came spurting out from the stump in the merchant's right arm.

Ramos couldn't do anything. Armor piercing rounds by the thousands were peppering their position, and unless he wanted to get dismembered by an anti-material rifle, he had to stay put.

"We have to do something!" yelled a Paladin. Ramirez had gone back into cover, having to retreat due to sniper fire. They all watched in helplessness as the caravan was slaughtered to a man.

The Paladin saw in shock as the last guard was dismembered by the centurion, when a woman with a slight bulge, came sprinting down the hill. In her hand was a massive sledgehammer, even though she was barely broke five foot. Wearing legion red and black, with the helmet of a decanus, and the armor of a veteran legionnaire, she signaled for her troops to disperse into the hills. One legionnaire stayed by her side, in black hair, and she pointed to the side of the road where the Paladins were in cover.

"Men and women of the Brotherhood. I am Legionnaire Marcus of the Legion. We will not fight you. Do not try to fight us, we will decimate you. We give a fair warning. Stay away from the highway or face decimation by the hands of the CH." and the legionnaires suddenly disappeared.

"Stealth boys. Should have known why we couldn't pick them up on our scopes." a Junior Paladin armed with a gauss rifle muttered. Ramos didn't think about that. He was thinking about who the hell were the CH?

_**"If there is one thing you must learn from the war between the Legion and the Republic, is that war breeds great men. If also breaks them into a million pieces."**_

_** -Senator Hanlon**_

**Ranger Outpost Delta, Oregon Territory**

**December 15th, 2282**

**1650 PT**

The Ranger Outpost was deathly silent, Ranger Hanlon decided. Shrugging, he knew that with the recent Circle of Steel attacks on the land, they had to be more cautious. The sun was starting to set, as gunfire and sporadic artillery fire was heard in the distance. Shouldering his trail carbine, he silently climbed up the mountain.

Using hand signals, he ordered the Ranger Death Squad to disperse into the nearby hills surrounding the valley. They didn't rely on technology like the Brotherhood and the conventional army. They were unconventional, shadows in the night. They all had radios, but they were on strict radio silence. Using hand signals once more, he ordered them to wait.

The war had gone has badly as one could imagine. The Brotherhood had managed to get to one thing before the New California Republic could. One that turned the tide in the favor of the Brotherhood until the New California Republic Navy, Air Force, and Armor Corp could be fully mobilized.

A functioning pre-war military base, filled with Vertibirds, fixed wing aircraft, and a population that refused to submit to the New California Republic. All of them joined the Brotherhood in order to fend off the NCR. And if that wasn't bad enough, there was always that splinter group.

The Circle of Steel. Wandering fanatics of the Codex, attacking everyone in their wake. Burning entire towns, garrisons, ports, just to cause chaos. Ranger Hanlon sighed as they waited for their target.

A Circle of Steel ambush was about to be ambushed. The Rangers were always in their element, even when caught off guard. They were fluid, able to adapt like nothing the world had ever seen before.

'Activate Night Vision.' Hanlon signaled, and in response, red lens from different rangers were activated, all of them save a few were looking at the highway before them. Several Circle of Steel troops were already laying a minefield, ready to destroy the 1st Light Armor Battalion that was going to be rumbling through there. Too bad the Rangers were smart.

'Open fire.' the hand signal was given, and suddenly the barking of six anti-material rifles was heard. The massive thunderclap of gunshots decimated six of the twelve Circle of Steel troops, their chests now smoking with holes the size of a hand in them. The remaining COS soldiers scattered like ants, fleeing into different directions.

"Advance and destroy." Hanlon ordered into the radio, and nine Rangers started to advance down the hill. A torrent of lasers met them, but the Rangers shrugged them off like they were flies. The infamous black armor of the Veteran Rangers were easily negating the tech advantage the COS had over them.

Within minutes it was over. The COS were scattered and killed. The dead were still smoking when the minefield was deactivated, the bodies collected, the weapons scavenged, and the Rangers gone.

They were ghosts.

_**"The Enclave had to change. We had to change our very way of life. We had to become the United States of America, not just the Enclave."**_

_** -General John Frank "Highlander" Black**_

**High Town, Midway**

**Civic Center**

**December 15th, 2282**

**1800 Local Time**

The quiet of the day was not lost upon the Preacher. The Preacher was the leader of the troops in High Town, the fortified settlement that was also the capital of the Teacher's Union. The TU had established itself the master of Midway, though the Scavenger's didn't really get it.

Seventeen of his soldiers were arrayed in the a loose formation, their weapons ready. Several of them were fresh recruits from the surrounding communities, green as the sea. Others had been pirates, often marauding in the Pacific Ocean on the sparse merchant ships going from Indonesia and the Philippines. Both of the island nations had reestablished themselves as the foremost power in the Pacific, but the Preacher didn't care.

The speedboats of the Union were on high alert, after spotting several hulking shapes in the fog heading straight for the old airstrip. The Teacher also had one more trick up his sleeve.

Underneath the waters of the harbor that once teemed with life and ships, was a single submarine. That was where he lived, where he taught. The submarine had been sent to High Town, while the Teacher himself went by convoy to High Town in order to gather the troops there and finally drive out the Scavengers.

The Scavengers were burnt out husks of humanity. Living on the outskirts of the territory controlled by the Union, they scavenged for food and often raided the Union. A cold war had been happening between the Union and the Scavengers which would have ended today.

As he was about to give the order to start the advance towards the Library to retake it from the armored men that had decimated the local garrison.

"Preacher. The gods sing to you and they bless you in your holy mission to reclaim the...infected lands of the Scavengers and the black beasts." a slimy old woman with a missing eye crowed.

"Thank you Miss Fate. We will return with more information about these unholy abominations. We will cleanse the ruins of them and restore the Gods grace on the lands." Preacher said over his shoulder as he exited.

The northern part of the island was a fortress. Anti-aircraft guns, 40mm Bozars that could tear through metal armor like nothing, were lined up all over the coast, looking for something, such as aircraft.

They never heard the silent humming of angels.

"_**Vaults were the sins of the old war. They were the ultimate weapon that was left behind by the old world. Some of them were pure, but most of them had to be purified by my legionnaires. They had to be cleansed of the old world, in order to survive the new.**__**"**_

_** -Legatus Augustus Antonius **_

**Tuscon, Courier's Legion**

**December 15th, 2282**

**2200 PT **

"Report Centurion." Legatus Augustus ordered. The Centurion immediately bent his knee, before rising.

"Legatus, the I Legion scoured the lands for the vault the Courier wanted found. Vault 37 was tough to find, for we had no indications to where it was, or how to open it. The pretender's legionnaires tried to trouble us, but we swiftly destroyed them. The vault was located to the north, towards the ruins of what is known as northern Tuscon County. It was located under a garage, and we managed to gain access to it." the Centurion reported.

Augustus was surprised. Vaults were not easy to gain access to.

"How Centurion?" the Centurion smiled ghastly.

_The vault was underneath the garage, just like the vault dweller had said. Vault 37, the home of the last vault dwellers in Arizona. _

_"How can we open it?' asked Centurion Brutus. The vault dweller looked at him without fear, something that Brutus respected._

_"The password. The fools are in the middle of a dispute. They wanted me to resolve. After they kicked me out, destroyed my life, and my livelihood? The password is 37, the pompous bastards." the vault dweller muttered. He was around twenty years of age, with a patch over his right eye. Black hair was cut short, grey eyes angry, and his bronze skin told Brutus that he was a Native of the land. The man was dressed in what was worn leather armor, with flexible Kevlar pads on the knees and shoulders. A dangerous .357 rifle was slung across his back, while a 10mm pistol and a machete, most likely belonging to a dead legionary, were holstered on his belt._

_"How did you get kicked out?" asked Brutus. It was not everyday you hear about a vault dweller kicked out of a vault._

_"The fucking overseer hated me. Said I was a danger to the vault. Just because I wanted to go out and trade with other people? Just because I was sick of this damn place. That was a couple of months ago, and your damn civil war almost got me killed. I went down to the Baja area, and damn they almost killed me there as well. I worked there as a mercenary for a couple of months before heading up here to answer a call by what's his name? The Courier." the vault dweller said. _

_"Ave, the Courier is a great man." Brutus said. Though the Courier had broke the Legion, he had brought back strength into the Legion as well._

_"After that, I ran into you fellas fighting the damn red jackets trying to kill me. You guys look the same, just that you guys also have black stripes on your armor." the vault dweller finished. _

_"The door?" and Brutus and the man stepped into the main tunnel leading to the giant vault door. It was chipped in several places, but the great yellow numbers, 37, were smacked right in the middle of the door. _

_"Time to end this..." the man growled before heading to the machine right next to the door. After fidgeting with an alarm sounded, and a weird noise started. _

_"What is happening?" asked a recruit. The vault dweller chuckled before a great scraping noise was heard, and the door rolled to the left, revealing a vault security team, armed with pistols and riot shields. A man dressed in a vault jumpsuit greeted them._

_"Hello. My name is Rick Santorum. Welcome to the United Christians Union." and the vault dweller just looked at the guy in disbelief, before grabbing his rifle from his back and fired at the man. The man dropped to the floor dead, a bullet hole between his head. The security team opened fire, but the vault dwellers were notorious in their inaccuracy with weapons. _

_The vault dweller leaped into action,carving through them like they were butter. Blood seemed to be everywhere as we cleansed the vault of the old war people. Only the women and children were spared, the women as servants and wives, the children to be future legionnaires and other occupations. _

"Fascinating. Where is this vault dweller? What is his name?" asked Legatus Augustus.

"He is currently on his way to the Mojave and towards New Vegas. We do not know his name." Centurion Brutus said, his head hanging in shame.

"My friend. Did you find the gift that the Courier wanted?" asked Legatus Augustus.

"Yes Legatus. We found it within the heart of the vault." and a legionnaire came into the tent, out of breath.

"Centurion. The pretender marches with all of his strength. They are marshaling out in the old ruins to the south. More of them are pouring out in the north and east." the legionnaire scout reported.

"Legatus?"

"We march with all of our strength. The Legion will be whole once more." the Legate then exited the tent, the red sea of legionnaires ready to die.

"Remember what Caesar first said to the Courier when they met?" asked Centurion Brutus.

Augustus chuckled darkly.

"I remember. We were both in the tent, I was a Centurion reporting to Vulpes, you were a Decanus reporting to Caesar himself." Augustus replied.

"_My Legion obeys me, even unto death. Why? Because they live to serve the greater good, and they know of no alternatives." _they both chanted.

_**"Does this sound noble enough? "Quail before me, foul super mutant! Thine end is at hand! Yield, that I may ease thine suffering!"**_

_** -Anonymous Paladin**_

**Galaxy News Radio, Brotherhood Outpost**

**December 15th, 2282**

**1700 EST**

"Stupid Human! WHY WON'T YOU DIE!" yelled the Super Mutant Brute. The Paladin chuckled, before rolling behind a sandbag. The early morning sun was breaking through the rays of the rolling fog.

"These guys don't know when to quit." the Paladin muttered. He then popped from behind cover, letting out a torrent of armor piercing 5.56 milometer rounds right into the Brute. The Brute absorbed them, but not before stumbling.

"STUPID HUMAN! THAT HURT!" the Brute roared, before firing assault rifle. Chips of sand flew by the Paladin, as he chuckled darkly.

"Citadel, when is that ride going to get here. I got a dozen Super Mutants breaking down my door, and the garrison is holed up in the building besides me." the Paladin said into his transmitter.

There had been a huge amount of Super Mutant activity in the city, after being driven away from the outskirts of the ruins of the once proud capital. Now the remaining mutants were trying desperately to regain the momentum against the Brotherhood, but the steel heads were refusing.

A rifle cracked and a head exploded. The Super Mutant head had just been destroyed by a large caliber sniper rifle.

"PRIDE! MOVE OUT!" a voice rang out over the automatic fire.

The Paladin smiled, before running out of cover.

Lyon's Pride was there to save the day.

_**"Humanity is greedy and chaotic by nature. We cannot change humanity. But we can humble it."**_

-**_Courier_**

**The Big Empty, Former Southwest Commonwealth**

**December 15th, 2282**

**1700 Local Time**

Did he really want to do this? The Courier asked himself. Did he really have to dedicate his life to restoring order in the Mojave, and freeing it's people.?

_The Bear will strangle you. The West must burn. BURN! BURN!_

But before the West must burn, he must be purified. He must burn before he could burn the others.

"Do it." and the cackling laughter of Dr. Mobius filled the air...

_You will never survive my deadly robo-scorpions, technological terrors and, uh, um... BIGGER, more ATOMIC versions of these things! _

_Shut up Mobius and get on with it._

**_A little confusing at the end. I will explain it more in depth in the next chapter. This chapter was more of a filler. We will be revisiting the LW, the Veteran Ranger vs BOS Paladin, the Courier and his decisions, and Code Onyx, and of course, the conclusion of the Battle of Midway. I know these chapters suck, but let's face it, I suck at writing._**


End file.
